


tender is the night (for a broken heart)

by moonkki



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, sanha is a nine year old boy sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkki/pseuds/moonkki
Summary: "Bin?"The voice was still as soft as Bin remembered but deeper, more hoarse, a lick of gravel that hadn't been there the last time he'd heard it."Dongmin." His name sat in Bin's throat like a soft cough, always waiting to be his next word, yet rarely spoken."You're back," Dongmin said.
Relationships: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	tender is the night (for a broken heart)

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i have so many wips but i've been writing this chapter for a while now and i just needed to put it out. my ex that i dated for almost five years and i recently reached out to each other and idk i wanted to vent out all the angst in me by writing this lmao.  
> anyway, i feel like i still haven't found my writing style so idk if it's obvious but i apologise in advance for the inconsistent writing style.  
> also, the title is from beach house's space song!

It had been a long month of settling back into Korea — a long month of getting used to the endless buzz of Seoul, a city that bore an air of nostalgic familiarity. Bin had drove in from the airport in a taxi, past the flat neat factories and warehouses of Incheon, some he remembered were once green grasses, empty lots. A few places he frequented more than a decade ago were reconstructed into something different, novel; tall buildings that dwarfed the rest were put up. 

His parents had been beyond willing to support his decision to take a six-month break before securing a job. _You're a licensed physician from Canada, you can get a job whenever you want here in Seoul,_ his mother had said. He had been generally praised to be excellent over his two years of fellowship; he would be lying to himself if he were to insist apprehension concerning his mother's words. 

He shelved his forehead in his hand. His throat was dry. He had been nursing his first glass of whiskey for the last thirty minutes. He wasn't a heavy drinker nor was he ever a drinker in his life but recently he found himself being a regular in this hole-in-the-wall bar. He took a sip, closed his eyes momentarily. Slow house music played in the background, volume moderate unlike the nightclubs in Itaewon that blasted head-splitting songs. He hummed along. 

"Come again?" a voice to his left asked. Myungjun.

"I feel like I'm wasting my time," he said. "I've visited all spots available here. I don't think I have anything to do anymore." 

"Jeju has tons of spots," Myungjun said.

"I went there with my family last week." 

"Oh, right." 

Running a line through the condensation of his glass with the tip of his forefinger, he said, "I don't know. It just feels… wrong to not be doing anything, I guess? I thought it'd be great to give myself a break but this is making me feel guilty more than anything. I have this feeling where I could be working instead of figuring out what to do other than staying cooped up in my room."

Myungjun gave him a look that translated to "Are you kidding me now?" before gulping his drink in one go. He slapped his lips together and said, "Seriously, I'd do anything to be in your place. My last batch of students had been amazing but things become awfully exhausting whenever it's exam season. Sihyeon always has to put up with me moaning about wanting to quit my job while I stare at my computer screen until dawn." He rubbed his brows. Bin could see him thinking back on the said moment. "I can see why. You've been so used to working yourself to the bone. But you have to cut yourself some slack. There's no need to feel so shitty about it as long as you continue to have a fat bank account."

Bin contemplated Myungjun's words. Myungjun was right — there was no way he could refute Myungjun's speech. He was lucky to be taking a long break without having to worry about financial issues like the other overworked adults. He had the choice others dreamt of achieving yet committing to it seemed to have been a difficult task. Undoubtedly, he knew he deserved the break — but his limbs were used to working and his brain couldn't register the notion of prolonging the absence of fatigue that used to soak up his bones on the daily. He just _needed_ to do something. He _had_ to do something. 

Myungjun cut through his trance. "Are you sure you don't have anything to do _at all?_ There must be some point in your life where you imagined some sort of bucket list to tick off. Try doing them now while you can. Traverse the world or something." 

Bin did have something of a bucket list. Plans. But that was long ago, when he was younger and didn't know how his life would take a turn. He used to think them over often until they were emblazoned somewhere on his mind. He could enumerate each one of them without a flaw if he desired. But he wouldn't. 

Instead, he said, "I don't. I was too caught up with doing well at medical school, my residency and fellowship that I never really got the chance to envision anything else."

Myungjun didn't say anything for a while. There was a thoughtful look on his face as he scrutinised Bin. "It truthfully still surprises me sometimes," he muttered, "how different you are from before." His expression contracted. "But well, life never fails to surprise us. There are more things to do than you can imagine. Just let the time pass, Bin. You'd be surprised to see what you can discover with time."

Bin chose not to comment on Myungjun's observation. He smiled thankfully. "Thanks, Jun."

Myungjun adopted a playful tone. "No problem. It's a courtesy to be nice to those who are paying for the drinks." 

"Who? You're the one who dragged me here." 

"You're rich." 

"I'm currently unemployed." Bin drank a mouthful of his whiskey, regretted instantly when he had to force the burning ball of liquid down his throat. 

"Unemployed and wealthier than I could ever be. Take pity." 

Bin didn't entertain the idea of furthering the bickering. Myungjun was unstoppable when there was alcohol in his system and spending a certain amount for a friend wasn't a massive blow to his bank account. 

He didn't ask for a second; Myungjun needed a ride and Bin knew better than drunk driving. It was almost seven in the evening when Myungjun deemed he had drunk enough; he knew his limits, knew when to stop. They set off after Bin slapped some bills on the counter. Bin dropped Myungjun off, smiled when the latter's yelled _thank you_ pealed out in the neighborhood. He watched Myungjun traipse into his house before driving away. 

There were a few boxes in his way when he made a beeline for his bedroom. He hadn't finished unpacking yet; he had just gotten an apartment for himself. He was still getting used to the silence, having been accustomed to the sound of his mother cooking in the kitchen and the news his father watched when he was home and wasn't working. He thought of dinner; his mother had packed food for him in varying containers before kissing his cheek goodbye and asking him to visit once in a while. 

He settled into his bed, laptop on his lap to check some of his emails. As he waited for the laptop to start up, he leaned back on the headboard. The small box on his nightstand caught his peripheral field. It was something that sat dust-thick in one of his locked drawers in his old bedroom, something of his that he decided was better left in Korea than brought to Canada. 

Bin wished he could do the same thing with memories — to bottle them up and store them somewhere obscure to keep himself from remembering every second and moment. 

  
  


Bin rarely came home for the summer. Only the first and second year he did to relieve himself of homesickness. Plane tickets weren't cheap (he had a savings goal) and he didn't want his new friends back in Vancouver to forget him. During the first two summers he spent most of the weeks by his parents' side, teasing Sua about everything to get a reaction and receiving a good amount of scolding from his father for doing so. He'd dedicated some hours of his days to meet his high school friends; _look at you all tall and muscular now — is this what Canada does?_ Myungjun had said. He and Jinwoo seemed to have only grown a few centimeters over the two years. Bin was beginning to tower them both.

One Saturday evening at Jinwoo's house, huddled on the floor next to Myungjun and Jinwoo, Bin's mind was straying despite the interesting horror mystery on-screen. There were snacks and bottles of beer with them; Jinwoo had taken the opportunity to do whatever as his parents were on a trip. Myungjun was constantly asking about the film, his questions unanswered as they were all equally trying to figure out the riddles and puzzles as the film progressed. An acrid scent hung in the air. Jinwoo and Myungjun were smoking a pack of cigarettes. They offered Bin one to which he lit up. Bin didn't accept more after. It would have been an irony, a medical student smoking one cigarette after another — though secondhand smoke was as bad. 

The amount of alcohol and nicotine consumed by his friends throughout the night was destructive. It was something that he, along with the other two, had believed was a _cool thing_ when they were thirteen. They had all hid together at their school's rooftop back then, had shared one bottle of beer and cigarette just for a curious try. Bin decided he didn't like it — Myungjun and Jinwoo had a different input. 

Not liking cigarettes was something he used to be pleased about himself. Dongmin didn't like the smell of cigarettes. 

Dongmin. 

"How is he?" he asked when the credits rolled. 

Elaboration wasn't needed — it was evident by how the other two had paused and shared a look across one another. Though it was a subject that hadn't been brought up for a long time, there was no need for a verbal discussion to agree that it was to be avoided. 

But Bin needed to make sure Dongmin had been well over the past two years, only then he could truly free himself from thoughts and worries that kept him up in some nights. 

It was Jinwoo who answered, "I heard he got casted. He's training and studying at the same time." He took a gulp from his beer and shrugged. "I don't really know much. Sorry." 

The response was as predicted. Dongmin wasn't well-regarded by his friends even during the times they dated. _A goody two shoes, a teacher's pet, a show-off._ Though they had smiled and congratulated him when he announced their relationship, Bin had been with his friends long enough to see right through them. 

It was quiet for a moment after that. His friends hesitated to take him out of his reverie. Then, he snatched the bag of chips from Myungjun's lap and said, "Let's watch something else."

Jinwoo nodded, inquired which genre they wanted to watch next as he crawled over to his laptop that was connected to the television. Myungjun was quick to suggest a romcom. Jinwoo opposed the idea — wanted to watch an action instead. _Then why did you ask for our opinion?_ Myungjun said. Jinwoo glanced over to Bin. The latter simply shrugged. Myungjun made a little victory dance as Jinwoo yielded. 

Of course, Bin thought. Dongmin would be just fine without him. He should start living the same way. 

  
  


The apartment finally looked fitting to be called a home. Bin had finished clearing the mess of boxes that scattered the living room; organized all things and decorated the entire place into something that he could navigate with ease. Jinwoo had come over during his time off and helped. He had the sleeves of his baby blue button-down shirt rolled up as he stacked up empty boxes. 

"Will you be staying for lunch?" asked Bin as he put the plates into one of the cupboards in the kitchen. 

"I had a sandwich on my way here," Jinwoo said, feet in black socks padding against the floor as he moved from one place to another, an empty box in his arms. He glanced at the clock near the kitchen. "I have an applicant to meet in fifteen."

"Ah, you should get going. Everything is almost clear anyway." 

"I should." Jinwoo let out a chuckle, moving faster as he went for the remaining boxes. "Jiwon said he wanted to meet you again." 

Bin closed the cupboard, turned to his friend with a smile. Though now with a slight stubble, Jinwoo was the same as he was when Bin left; he still smiled easily, talked with utmost patience and looked at Bin with a gaze that radiated warmth. Like that, Bin could see Jinwoo's six year old, a little girl that'd stand on her tiptoes as she hugged Bin's leg and smiled up at him. 

It was gratifying yet somehow wistful — to be able to see his childhood friends now with their families while they succeeded in their respective careers. They were together when they were children that thrived off mischief and foolish antics; now Jinwoo was raising a lovely daughter of his own with his wife while Myungjun had just announced himself to be an expectant father.

There was a slight squeeze in his ribs as he thought about himself. 

"I'll come over sometime," Bin said. "Should I bring presents?" 

"You brought too much last time." Jinwoo gave a shrug. "Unless you want to spoil my daughter more than I do." 

Bin sported a mischievous look. "I simply want to be Jiwon's favorite uncle. I'm not losing against Myungjun." 

"Let me tell you, there's no competition. He's more of a playmate that acts like her age than an uncle who's in his thirties." Jinwoo shook his head, the corner of his lips curling upwards. He then rolled down his sleeves. "Anyway, I think I should get going." 

They exchanged a few more words; Jinwoo telling Bin that he was always welcomed to visit, Bin telling Jinwoo to take care. With a smile, Jinwoo held up a hand in goodbye before heading out of the apartment. Bin stood in silence for a while, stared idly at the empty boxes. 

There was an inexplicable hollowness in his chest that he didn't want to look further into in fear of finding something he desperately tried to block off for years. It was there, somewhere at the back of his mind, a face that smiled and hands that used to hold his. If he closed his eyes and dug deep just enough he could feel the phantom touch. 

But he wouldn't. 

Not anymore. 

  
  


Bin was settled into his desk, typing away on his laptop as he composed an email to his aunt in Vancouver. He had written a long letter detailing his month in Seoul, perhaps babbled too much. He stayed under her roof for years, and she had been the first one to ask about his day whenever he came home. A habit, he thought. She took delight in listening to his tales — he knew she would enjoy reading such length. 

By the time he was done, he clicked off his emails and stared at the screen. After a long moment of contemplation, he began typing. _Lee Dongmin._ He stared at the letters, his forefinger hovering over the _Enter._ Suddenly feeling heavy in his stomach, he closed the browser and turned off the laptop. He scrubbed a hand over his face. The moment he decided to look him up, it would escalate into a pitiful habit. _Too dangerous._

When the night fell, seated on one of the stools in the kitchen, Bin received a call from Sua. He put down his chopsticks, set the chicken he had ordered in aside as he accepted the call.

"Bin!" Sua's voice filtered through. 

"What's up?" 

"Bin," she said again. "I have a favor to ask. I know you're currently on a break but we're having a _little_ problem here at the centre and you're the closest and best option that we have right now." 

She had the tone that she used whenever she was troubled. Bin straightened up. "What is it?" 

"We have a staff shortage. Our English tutor's father got hospitalised so she had to go back to her hometown. The other is currently on a trip and will be back in over a month. The sessions are starting in a week and there is no one left that's qualified enough to teach the language. You're our only hope, Bin." Sua exaggerated a pleading tone towards the end. 

He didn't hesitate: "Sure. Just give me the lesson plan… if you have it?" 

She sighed in relief. "You're the best brother ever. She gave it to me beforehand. I'll send it to you along with other details via email."

"I charge per hour though," Bin joked. 

"Whatever you want." Sua snorted. "Call me when you have questions, okay? Bye!" 

The call ended, and Bin continued with his meal. 

He checked his phone after he finished dishwashing, and found Sua's email containing an attached file that read _lesson plan._ The address and extra details were written at the bottom, and were ended with a smiling emoticon. _Your sessions are scheduled at 3pm until 4:30pm on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Can't wait to see you there, brother._

  
  


Bin arrived three hours earlier than his scheduled session. 

The tutorial centre was approximately an eight-minute drive from his apartment complex. A random station played over the radio, the air conditioner humming as it tried to mitigate the summer heat percolating through the car. He pulled up in the parking lot, flipped down the visor and checked himself in the mirror. He had dressed up particularly, wanting to leave a good impression. He tugged on the collar of his button-up shirt, flipped the visor back up before he got out of the car and headed inside the centre. 

Inside the centre was a spacious, brightly-lit hallway with corridors on either side at the far end, a glossy granite flooring, and walls painted alabaster and decorated with various artworks and posters. There was a row of benches arranged at the left side of the hallway as a designated waiting area and a side office near the entrance. The young woman behind the desk perked up as soon as Bin entered. 

"Hi, can I help you?" she greeted. 

Bin stepped closer to her desk, holding his messenger bag that contained his laptop and the material he printed out and perused over the last week to his front. "Yes, I'm Moon Bin. Sua asked me to come. Where can I…?" 

Recognition flashed in her eyes, a smile emerging across her youthful features. "Mr. Moon! Ah, yes." She held a hand out, gesturing to the hallway. "Just turn to the right and enter the first room. It's the staffroom and you can find Ms. Moon there." 

Bin thanked her and gave a small bow before doing as instructed. As he was told, he found Sua there along with others. He skimmed through the list of his students that Sua provided after he settled into his respective desk. The students' ages ranged from nine to twelve years, and Bin mentally patted himself on the back knowing he wasn't socially inept with kids. 

Afternoon came, and the session was carried out without trouble. He introduced himself as their transitory tutor and asked the students to introduce themselves so he could put names to faces. Though some were still hesitant to participate when he asked questions, the children were generally well-behaved. 

When the session ended, he headed for the staffroom. Sua excitedly asked him to join dinner with everyone in a newly opened grill restaurant several blocks away from the centre. He accepted the invitation, putting the materials he used for his session to his desk, and excused himself to buy something cool from the convenience store nearby. 

On his way outside, he found one of his students sitting on one of the benches. Lee Sanha, he recalled. A lanky boy taller than those his age. He waved at the boy with a smile. Sanha returned the gesture. Must be waiting for his parents, Bin thought. The young lady in the side office, Sookyung as Bin learned, was still on her desk, hunched over some papers. They exchanged a brief greeting before Bin went out. 

When he came back from the convenience store with a can of milk soda in hand, Sanha was still at the waiting area, hugging his bag. He glanced at his watch. _5:24pm._ Sanha had been waiting for a while. 

Bin sat next to him and greeted, "Hello, Sanha." 

"Hi, Mr. Moon," Sanha responded politely. "I'm waiting for my dad." 

"I see," Bin said. "Your dad must've gotten caught up with something unexpected. He'll be here soon." 

Sanha nodded, looked down at his fingers that were twisted together on top of his bag. 

"Is he at work today?" Bin asked. 

The boy nodded, gaze still low. "He is. He said he's going to pick me up though." 

The boy's behavior was a complete contrast to his vivacious bounce during their session. Sanha had been one of the few who was delighted to raise his hand whenever Bin asked, had stood out by how he smiled at Bin and the other students easily. 

He held up his soda. "Have you tried this?" 

Sanha looked up. A glint flickered in his eyes upon seeing the drink in Bin's hand. "Yes," he answered, his tone suddenly brighter. "Some of my friends said it tastes weird but I like it." His radiant expression turned solemn. "Dad doesn't buy it a lot anymore because he said it's bad for me which doesn't make sense because I read the ingredients at the back and it has milk and yoghurt. They're healthy, right? I think I became really tall because of that." 

Bin held back a chuckle. "Milk and yoghurt are good for you but they become unhealthy when they're processed into something like soda. Soda can rot your teeth." 

Sanha looked somber now, his chin jutting out. 

Shaking the can slightly, Bin asked, "Do you want it?" 

The boy stared at the soda before he turned away, a pout in his voice. "No. You said it's bad."

"It's not that bad as long as you don't drink it frequently." 

It took a while before Sanha turned back to him. He looked hesitant, then thoughtful. "Dad hasn't bought me one for four days." 

"You can have it." Bin held the soda closer. 

Sanha was immediate to take the can, the bench shifting a bit when he began swaying his feet. Due to his height, the toes of his shoes squeaked against the granite with each forward and backward. Bin winced at the sound. "Thank you, Mr. Moon." Sanha beamed, showing his snaggletooth. 

Bin didn't know how much time had passed but he was glad that Sanha had brightened up. The boy talked about his session with Sua, his mathematics tutor, after finding out that she was Bin's sister. He received the information with his eyes wide in surprise before he relaxed and thoughtfully commented that they both looked like cats. 

Sanha halted his speech about one of his favorite cartoon characters when his eyes caught something over Bin's shoulder.

"Uncle Minhyuk?" 

Bin followed Sanha's gaze and found a man passing through the glass door. The man, apparently Sanha's uncle Minhyuk, was clad in a casual getup, his silver cross earring dangling with each step. He leaned on the average spectrum in terms of height and bore such unique, sharp features that Bin wondered if he carried foreign blood. 

It was completely silent. Sookyung had turned off the song she was previously playing on her phone. 

"Park Minhyuk," Bin heard the man say to Sookyung who nodded in recognition. 

"Mr. Lee informed us in advance that you'd be coming if he failed to come by," Sookyung said, handing him a notebook and a pen. "I just need you to sign your name, write your contact details and relation to the child here."

Bin turned to look at Sanha. The child had a look on his expression that was… unreadable before it contracted into something more impassive. As though he had expected the situation. It was a face unfitting for a boy like himself who could easily give the impression of being filled with nothing but exuberance. 

He had seen this more than once: parents who were too busy with their jobs to fulfill their promises and give their children the utmost attention. Children reacted and coped with it differently while parents had varying reasons — whether understandable or not, Bin refrained himself from coming up with unpleasant assumptions about strangers. 

Minhyuk neared them. "Hey, bud," he said to Sanha before turning to Bin. 

Bin stood up, gave a small bow and held out a hand. "Moon Bin. Sanha's English tutor." 

Minhyuk shook his hand briefly, bowing back. "Park Minhyuk. I'm a close friend of Sanha's dad." He turned to the young boy. "Your dad had a sudden meeting today so I came to pick you up." 

Sanha got up, strapped his bag over his shoulders and grabbed the can of soda sitting on the bench. He took Minhyuk's hand and turned to Bin. "Thank you for the soda, Mr. Moon. You're really nice," he said respectfully, bowing. "I can't wait to learn more English tomorrow." 

Minhyuk politely bade his farewell as well before they headed for the glass door. Sanha looked back at Bin, gave a little wave of goodbye, then, they were off. 

  
  


A week passed, and it became a routine that Bin accompanied Sanha as the latter waited for his uncle Minhyuk. Sometimes, Sanha had already been picked up by the time Bin got out of the staffroom; sometimes, Sanha was there, swaying his feet under the bench as he called Bin over, enthusiastic about chatting with his tutor. 

Mr. Lee hadn't been able to pick him up. Bin briefly wondered how Sanha's father was like — the man who had raised a son so bright yet dimmed whenever he was brought up. _Mother,_ Bin wanted to ask about yet hesitated due to the absence of mention. 

"Uncle Minhyuk is very late today," remarked Sanha, staring at the glass door. 

In the background, Sookyung played music on her phone. 

Bin glanced at his watch. _5:23pm._ The man wasn't usually this late save for the first day when Mr. Lee was probably certain about his availability to pick up Sanha. 

"He dances," Sanha said before Bin could come up with words of assurance. "Uncle Minhyuk teaches dance. I've been in his studio once – my dad brought me there. He looked so cool dancing. I want to be cool like that too." 

"Do you want to dance?" 

Sanha nodded. "I want to learn dancing. Maybe Uncle Minhyuk can teach me too." He looked at Bin. "Do you know how to dance, Mr. Moon?" 

"I did," Bin said. "One of my teachers when I was in high school used to ask me to dance in his class."

A look of amazement settled on Sanha's plump face. "You must be good!" 

Bin laughed. "He only asked me to dance for credit. I always fell asleep in his class." 

"Oh," Sanha said. He looked thoughtful. "But it must mean that you're good. He could've asked you to do something else but he made you dance for everyone. That means he enjoyed your dancing, Mr. Moon." 

"You have a good way of thinking," Bin said, ruffling Sanha's hair. "Well, I think I wasn't that bad anyway." 

"Can you show me your dancing, Mr. Moon?" 

"Ah, I'm not good at dancing anymore."

Sanha furrowed his brows upwards. "Why?" 

"I haven't danced for… a long time." 

"Did you forget your dance?" 

Bin smiled. The boy tended to question too much — as any child would. There was pure curiosity on his face, his eyes focused and honest. Bin hummed. "Something like that." 

"Maybe you should ask Uncle Minhyuk to teach–" Sanha broke off, gaze strayed away. 

"Mr. Lee!" Bin heard Sookyung say. 

He turned to where the side office was and saw a man by the desk, his back facing Bin and Sanha as he bowed to Sookyung. Mr. Lee stood tall in his black suit — a businessman? an office worker? Bin wondered — when he straightened himself, the clear mainspring of Sanha's rapidly growing height. 

Bin glanced at Sanha, expected the boy to pleasantly respond to the surprise but he was staid and unsmiling. 

Readying to introduce himself, Bin stood up and schooled a polite expression. Mr. Lee turned around, smiled at his son before he locked gazes with Bin. 

Bin's breath along with his introduction stopped short in his throat. 

"Bin?" 

The voice was still as soft as Bin remembered but deeper, more hoarse, a lick of gravel that hadn't been there the last time he'd heard it. 

"Dongmin." His name sat in Bin's throat like a soft cough, always waiting to be his next word, yet rarely spoken. 

"You're back," Dongmin said, voice uncertain and restrained as he took a step closer. 

Bin swallowed thickly, trying to compose himself. "I am." 

Silence fell. Sookyung had turned off her music. Bin catalogued the differences. The fine lines under Dongmin's eyes; the bruises that hung under his eyes, hardly concealed, a telltale sign of exhaustion and sleepless nights; the plump cheeks and soft jaw that were whittled down into glaringly sharp lines. Though thinner, he was broad. Though somewhat weathered, he was still beautiful. 

Dongmin was Sanha's father. 

He had a son. A family. 

It shouldn't hurt. Not anymore. 

But it did. 

Hauling himself out of his stupor, he said, "I see you're picking up Sanha." He hoped his voice didn't betray his emotions. 

"Mr. Moon," Sanha's voice interrupted. "You know dad?" 

At that, Bin snapped his gaze away from Dongmin. 

"Yes," Bin answered, keeping his eyes glued onto the young boy as he added, "he's a friend from high school." 

Dongmin cleared his throat, and Bin returned his gaze to him. There was now a smile on Dongmin's lips — the reluctance gone. Though a little restricted, it was the same smile he had all those years ago. He looked genuinely pleased, his gaze soft and warm. 

"So you're the Mr. Moon he talks about." Dongmin chuckled. "You're working here…?" he asked, unsure. 

"I'm just working here for the meantime as a substitute," Bin said as coolly as he could manage, still a little shaken by the unexpected encounter and information that _Dongmin_ was Sanha's father. Bin had expected to meet Dongmin in a high school reunion where he could prepare himself — not in a tutorial centre where he had been tutoring and became a friend of his son. "I'm currently on a six-month break from hospitals." 

"I see," Dongmin said, the curve of his lips still settled on his face. "I hope you're settling back here in Seoul just fine, Bin. As much as I'd be pleased to catch up with you, my boy and I need to get going." 

Bin made a small gesture with his hands — for what exactly? He wasn't certain. "Ah, dusk is approaching," he said, turning to Sanha and placing a hand on top of his head. "I'll see you next week, kiddo."

Sanha nodded, gaze shifting between Bin and his dad. "See you next week, Mr. Moon." He bowed, then said his usual phrase before he set off, "I can't wait to learn more English

"We should have some coffee sometime and catch up, Bin," Dongmin said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and tapping on it before handing the device to Bin. "For old time's sake." 

Bin's preservation instinct jolted — but he offered a small smile and nodded. "Of course, Dongmin." He took the phone and programmed in his number. A new contact: _Bin._ He handed the phone back. 

Dongmin pocketed the device. "I'll send you a message when I'm available, and hopefully, when you are too." He looked down at his son and patted his back. "Come, San. Say bye to Mr. Moon." 

"Bye, Mr. Moon." Sanha bowed once more. 

"See you, Bin." Dongmin smiled. 

Bin felt a physical hand squeeze his heart. 

Dongmin had moved forward — the proof in the form of a nine year old boy walking past the glass door with him. 

  
  



End file.
